Part 6 (1/2)

February the Creator kidnapped the children, said House Builder. February the Creator is responsible for this endless season of sadness.

But you, said Thaddeus, looking at the girl who smelled of honey and smoke. You poisoned me. You made me see spring. When my daughter was taken from her bed, it smelled of honey and smoke and the window was open.

Like I can control what I do and how you are affected. I believe I was only doing it for the safety of my husband. Someone told me to do it, and I did it. I, too, have been mislabeled as a girl who smells of honey and smoke. I'm a Housewife. And as for the smell of the room, Housewife whispered, February is a cruel being, capable of such tricks.

So it is still February, said Thaddeus. All this time February is still occurring.

I'm afraid so, she said.

None of this makes sense, thought Thaddeus.

We feel the same way, said House Builder.

How did you hear that.

You said it out loud, said House Builder. The girl who smelled of honey and smoke nodded.

There was a war planned by underground children, said Thaddeus. It's against February. Or is it against you. I shouldn't have called it off. Should I have called it off. I need to get back to town. And Thaddeus headed to the door.

Please, said House Builder. I know you won't understand this, because I believe it's impossible to understand, but I'm not the cause of the town's troubles. I've been pushed to the edge of town. Look back to the two holes in the sky. That's where the problem is. Or the problem is willpower and what you think you can control. I, for example, got labeled February and my wife here as a girl who smells of honey and smoke. Such nonsense. How awful.

When Thaddeus opened the door, it was snowing again and the trees were coated in ice. He ran back to the town as fast as he could, tripping and falling several times. He screamed in torment, his face pressed into the hard snow.

The girl who smelled of honey and smoke

woke up before February each morning. She'd crawl out of bed and walk through the darkness of the unfinished home and sit down at a wooden desk where she'd click on a small green lamp. She would read through the stacks of papers, the fragmented paragraphs, the half sentences and abandoned dialogue, and finish these lost riddles to her liking. A long time ago, she showed Bianca the sun. Yesterday she told Thaddeus to walk back to the house of a man wrongly accused of being February to ask more questions. She supplied the blacksmiths with the tools to build a s.h.i.+p. One by one she revived the children buried underground after February kidnapped them, and she was the one who dropped the sc.r.a.ps of parchment from the sky that Thaddeus and the War Effort collected. The girl who smelled of honey and smoke told the children nursery rhymes and supplied them with lanterns as her hands carved out the maze of tunnels. There, there, she said, hus.h.i.+ng them to sleep under thick winter blankets, their bodies huddled against a curve in the tunnel. And deep inside their dreams, she fed them the images of a final War Plan against February. There, there, she whispered, tucking the squares of parchment under their pillowed heads.

Thaddeus called a meeting with the War Effort.

I apologize to everyone, he said. The past weeks I believed it was spring when in fact the attacks from February have never been worse. I believe we should go on a full-scale attack against February. He doesn't live at the edge of town. That is House Builder and his wife, who is a worker of spells and who tricked me to protect her husband. What I do know is that the real February is the Creator who lives in the two holes in the sky. We should have known this. We will immediately construct a fleet of balloons and ascend into the air.

There were about thirty people in Thaddeus's home, and they immediately began to object. A few people shouted that flight is impossible. The Professor quieted them and spoke.

But we already have a plan under way, he said, and handed Thaddeus the bundle of parchments gathered from the homes and shops left by the underground children.

Fine, go ahead with it, he said. But I'm going in the opposite direction. I need to get into the holes in the sky.

Should someone go with you, asked a war member.

No, said Thaddeus. The children's War Plan is a plan that will work, but I can't leave without seeing what's in the sky. I will attempt to fly tomorrow by myself. Everyone else can begin the children's War Plan.

That night everyone ate dinner

together at the inn. They had steamed carrots, apple-glazed pork and boiled potatoes. They ate all the food in the town. They told stories of how New Town would be warmer. They drank and dreamed of blooming fields. A calendar was created, void of the season of February, and at the end of the night they brought it out and everyone cheered.

They talked over the War Plan one last time and went to bed early. People questioned Thaddeus on how he was going to fly when flight was impossible. Thaddeus shrugged his shoulders, said he didn't care, that he just had to try.

I miss you both, said Thaddeus that night into his pillow.

He thought about the man and the woman at the edge of town. His head was spinning.

I love you both, he said into the pillow.

And then he fell asleep.

FEBRUARY WOKE ONE MORNING AT THE same time that the girl who smelled of honey and smoke was getting up from the bed. He decided to follow her. He crawled on his hands and knees across the floor and looked into the next room where the desk was. The girl who smelled of honey and smoke was sitting there writing something. She was folding sheets of paper and tying them with blue ribbon and reaching her arm through a hole in the floor. February stood up and walked to the desk. The girl heard him. She turned around. same time that the girl who smelled of honey and smoke was getting up from the bed. He decided to follow her. He crawled on his hands and knees across the floor and looked into the next room where the desk was. The girl who smelled of honey and smoke was sitting there writing something. She was folding sheets of paper and tying them with blue ribbon and reaching her arm through a hole in the floor. February stood up and walked to the desk. The girl heard him. She turned around.

Go ahead, he said, you can write whatever you want, he said. I don't care anymore.

I will, she said. You took away a man's wife and daughter for no reason. You're cruel. I'm going to show them happiness, she said, wondering if he knew about the underground children, the notes she had given them.

I'm sorry, said February. I'm sorry for everything.

February turned and walked back to the bedroom. Just before he entered, a sharp pain ran from the bottom of his foot to his hip. He fell back on the ground and twisted his foot up near his chest. He saw three dead bees crushed into his heel.

Later that same day the

girl who smelled of honey and smoke sat at the desk and lit fires in the town. She had Bianca start at one house and work in a descending circle, burning it all down. She then collected the papers in a stack, tied it with ribbon, and placed it in a box she t.i.tled Light Box.

Bianca began at the edge